Be Vewy Vewy Quiet
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: NFA Help Haiti ficlet. Crack!fic. Jimmy breaks rule #42 and now has to rely on Tim and Gibbs to save him. Oneshot.


**A/N:** This is another Help Haiti ficlet. The prompt was for Tim, Jimmy, Gibbs, and "on the lam". It's rather nuts...perhaps a sign of my incipent lunacy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS or anything associated with it. I'm making no money off this story.

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**Be Vewy Vewy Quiet...  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Jimmy collapsed to the ground and covered his head with his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Agent Gibbs, McGee. I never meant for you to get in trouble, too!" he said miserably. "I just didn't know where else to turn. I mean...there are only so many floors in NCIS Headquarters!"

Tim bent over, panting and massaging at the stitch in his side.

"It's...okay, Jimmy."

"McGee's right. You were right to come to us," Gibbs said.

"But now, he's after you, too."

"We just have to wait until he calms down," Gibbs said, reassuringly.

Jimmy whimpered.

"It'll be okay," Tim said. "I promise. He was...well...well, he..." He looked at Gibbs helplessly.

"He was at least giving you a chance to get away..."

Jimmy groaned. "It was accident! I swear! It was an accident!"

Tim knelt down while Gibbs kept watch.

"We all make mistakes. I broke his golf clubs and he almost torched my entire record collection. You...well..."

Jimmy looked up. "I didn't mean to touch the body before he got a look! I mean, I'm his assistant. It's not mattered before!"

Gibbs chuckled. "People tend to get crotchety when they get older. You just caught him on a bad day."

Off in the distance, they heard a roar. _"Mister Palmer!"_

"Oh! Time to run!" Gibbs grabbed Jimmy by the arm and they took off through the trees. "If we were only near a cliff!"

"A cliff!" Jimmy shrieked. "Why a cliff?"

"Because then he could throw you over it, you could land in a lake and all would be forgiven," Tim said. "He needs to let out his rage, Jimmy. See it from _his_ perspective."

"We're not near any cliffs!"

"I know," Gibbs said, holding the tranquilizer gun at the ready. "That's why he's trying to kill you."

"I'm dead."

"No. No, you're not. It's okay. We just have to stay on the run for a while."

"Could we...make a _fake_ cliff?" Jimmy suggested pitifully. "I could fall into...a...a swimming pool or something?"

Tim stopped and looked at Gibbs. "It's a possibility, Boss. Off the high dive?"

"We'd have to get Jimmy up there and make sure that Ducky doesn't have his shotgun with him."

"Shotgun!" Jimmy shouted.

"Kate left it to him in her will," Tim said, grinning. "It's a way of feeling the power...or something."

"I'm going to die!"

"No. No. You'll be fine."

They hurt a loud boom and the tree beside Jimmy's head disintegrated in a shower of splinters.

"Keep running!" Gibbs said.

"We need a cliff, Boss! I didn't think Ducky could run this fast!"

"He's on adrenaline, I guess...oh...Abby shared her CafPow! this morning."

Jimmy sped up, nearly leaving Tim and Gibbs behind. There was a sudden break in the trees.

"We're out of cover!" Tim said, panicking slightly. "We don't want to give him a clear shot!"

Gibbs grinned. "But look over there."

"A cliff!" Tim and Jimmy said in unison.

"Let's make sure there's water at the bottom of it." The trio sprinted over. It was perfect. A crystal clear lake shimmered in the afternoon sun...at the bottom of a thirty foot drop.

"Okay, Jimmy. You just stand right here. We'll make sure he doesn't kill you," Tim said, encouragingly.

Jimmy nodded in terror. "Okay. Okay. I can stand here."

The trees began to shake. The earth trembled. A particularly large oak split in half, revealing the infuriated ME. He was wearing his fisherman's hat. His bowtie was askew, scrubs in tatters.

In short, Ducky was the most terrifying sight known to mankind. The shotgun was bent. He looked at it and tossed it negligently to the side.

"Mr. Palmer. There you are."

"H-Hello, Doctor. It was an accident."

"How many times, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, taking one slow thundering step after the other. "How many times have I told you _not_ to touch the body before the ME gets a chance to look it over? _How many times_?"

"Four hundred twenty three...and a half, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy whimpered.

"A half?" Ducky asked, pulling up short.

"You once got interrupted halfway through telling me."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." He returned to his thundering approach. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

"Good." He stood toe to toe with Jimmy and then smiled toothily. "It won't hurt a bit." He grabbed the back of Jimmy's scrubs, picked up the young medical student...

...and threw him over the edge of the cliff. Jimmy screamed like a girl and plunged into the icy waters of the crystal clear lake thirty feet below. Ducky stared in satisfaction and then dusted off his scrubs, straightened his bowtie and cleared his throat.

"If only the younger generation paid more attention to the rules. We wouldn't _have_ this rigamarole every time they made a mistake."

He _tsk_-ed to himself and made his way down to the lake, just as Gibbs and Tim were helping Jimmy slog his way to shore.

"I trust I made myself clear, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked sternly.

"V-Very clear, Doctor."

"Good. Now, get out of those wet clothes. We can't have you catching cold, now can we."

"N-No, sir," Jimmy stuttered.

Ducky looked at his watch. "Ah. A whole day wasted with this pointless exercise. I will see you tomorrow, bright and early, Mr. Palmer. Don't be late!" Then, he turned around and sauntered away, whistling "Barbara Allen" to himself as he went.

Jimmy looked at Gibbs and Tim.

"I wouldn't be late tomorrow, Jimmy," Tim said.

"No."

"In fact, maybe you should sleep in Autopsy tonight," Gibbs said.

"Maybe."

"And always remember Rule #42."

"What's that?"

Tim and Gibbs looked at each other and then said in unison, "Don't ever make Ducky mad."

FINIS!


End file.
